childish behavior

I stooped to the level of a 4-year-old this evening. I dumped an entire cup of water on my daughter’s head.

That wasn’t very nice of me and she didn’t deserve it; she only kinda sorta deserved it, that is, if we lived in a parallel universe where it’s okay for mommies to act like children.

We have this argument every night about how much water she can drink before bed time. She’s a very very deep sleeper and doesn’t tend to get up in the middle of the night if she has to pee. Every now and again she has an accident and we deal with it. Okay, I deal with it as she walks around her room half asleep clutching her blanket and dolly wondering why on Earth it’s taking so long to change the sheets. But we are proactive about this in that we limit how much fluid she has after dinner.

So tonight I got home from a birthday party with my youngest, who was completely jacked up on sugar and very very tired, and immediately had to deal with the gazillion questions from my 4-year old. What kind of party was it? Was there a show? What was the theme? Did you let Owen eat candy? How much candy did he eat? Shouldn’t I be allowed to have candy since he ate candy? This really didn’t get things started off on the right note.

The party happened to be a Backyardigans party. My kids LOVE the backyardigans. Seriously, how can you not love the backyardigans? The party favor was a plastic backyardigans cup filled with a silly straw and candy. My 4-year-old had to have this cup. That, and she wanted some water.

4 yr old: Mommy, can I have some water?
Me: Sure, but only a little bit since it’s almost bed time.
4 yr old: Can I use Owen’s new backyardigan’s cup?
Me: Sure, but only if, after you finish up your water, you bring it upstairs with you and put it in the bathroom so that your brother can use the cup to dump water on himself while in the tub.
4 yr old: Yes, mommy. Can I have some water now?
Me: (I pour the water) Here’s what you are allowed to have. No more. Don’t ask me for anymore. And no drink before bedtime since you’re having this.
4 yr old: Okay.
Me: You understand what I’m telling you. Don’t ask me for anything else.

I head upstairs. My husband calls for my daughter to come upstairs for her bath. No response. He calls again. And again. Still no response. At this point I scream bloody murder asking her to respond to her father when he calls for her. At the same time I start to head downstairs to see what’s going on, cause my motherly instincts tell me that something is definitely going on.

4 yr old: I’m coming.

She walks, very carefully, out of the kitchen holding the Backyardigans cup filled to the top with water. She stops and takes a sip. And another. And another. I leap down the last 4 steps. grab the cup. and….yes, I did, I dumped it over her head.

I know…it wasn’t a nice thing to do. It also wasn’t a smart thing to do – it created a whole lot of work for me as I then had to clean up the floor. I think she got the message. Either that or she just thought mommy had forgotten to take her meds.

Obviously it didn’t help any that I was already in a pissy mood seeing that I’ve dealt with 3 all-out-tantrums from a 2-year-old earlier in the day and was at a birthday party for the daughter of a sorta-friend who used to be a really good friend who now I’m not sure what’s going on. But that’s for another post.

Oh, and do you think it was too harsh for me to tell her that if she was to pee in her bed this evening that she would have to sleep in it without me getting up to change the sheets. And when she asked what she should do if she had to pee in the middle of the night I told her that she, under no circumstances, should wake me up and that she should just go ahead and pee and go back to bed. Was that mean of me?

Of course, when this was all said and done, my husband had to point out that my behavior was almost as childish (okay, so he said, more childish) then his recent argument with my 2-year-old son over the picture he (my husband) was coloring and how it wasn’t my son’s picture and that he (my son) should keep his stinky little crayons on his own page and not mess with his (my husband’s) masterpiece. Which, by the way, was a picture of Elmo and Cookie Monster.

And it obviously doesn’t make me feel better to know that I’m going to eat salmon for dinner tonight (which I’m cooking) instead of the big greasy bacon cheeseburger with a side of chocolate that I so want right now. Can you tell what time of the month it is?

But I did sneak in to my daughter’s room after she had fallen asleep and gave her hugs and kisses and told her that I loved her and that I’m sorry for taking out my bad day on her. She didn’t wake up. Though she did grunt and throw her arm out to the side hitting me in the shoulder. Serves me right. I’ll just have to tell her again in the morning.

are we sure I’m turning 30 in a few months and not 3?